


Wait for Sleep

by tiniestdormouse



Series: Borderlands [1]
Category: Pandora Hearts
Genre: Hypnosis, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-17
Updated: 2011-10-17
Packaged: 2017-12-31 22:39:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1037209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiniestdormouse/pseuds/tiniestdormouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First in the Borderlands series. When obsession becomes desperation, young Vincent Nightray decides to take his brother's safety into his own hands. That decision leads to the darkest of places with consequences he never imagined. </p>
<p>In "Wait for Sleep" in order to protect Gilbert from the dangers of the Abyss, Vincent acquires his own Chain. But the Dormouse is not as docile as it seems, and its demands are not so easy to sate. Kink meme fill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Pairings/ Warnings: Implied Gil/Oz, eventual Vincent/Gil & Gil/Vincent, dubcon.
> 
> Note: Takes place during the years Gilbert and Vincent are living together as wards of the Nightray manor.
> 
> Written to fill this prompt: "Vincent's Dormouse can put people to sleep, right? I bet if he uses it quickly they'll just drop off, but if he works at it, he can put someone under slowly, and talk them down to a sleepy, suggestible state." Yes, smut will happen, but I'm building up to it! ^-^
> 
> Disclaimer: I own none of the characters. Jun Mochizuki and Square Enix do.

 

Prologue

Cold hard ground. Nighttime sky.

"Gil…?"

Pain. Everywhere. Vincent opened one battered eye, groped the dewy grass with a blood-stained palm.

"Gilbert…!"

Iron gates creaking before him. Was that…the Doorway to the Abyss…?

"Where are you?"

Gone. His brother was gone.

The Abyss took him.

He lost his brother.

The scream, high and young and thin, wretched the air apart as the desperate, bleeding boy beat his small fists on the ground and began to cry.

"Gilbert, Gilbert, Gilbert, come back…."

The taste of grass and blood in his mouth. Choking gasping sounds as his sobs wracked his small body. If _she_ stole him, if white-haired Alice took him when they got separated in the Abyss, he'll kill her, kill her, kill her…

Crying out to anyone and no one, Vincent begged, "Take me to the Abyss… Take me to Gil…"

A light. Vincent shielded his face. Please not a monster, make all the monsters go away….

Voices. "He's hurt!" A man with peppered-colored whiskers in servant's clothes held a lantern overhead. "Susie, I'll take the boy inside and get him fixed up."

"But Joseph-"

"I think the Duke'll want to meet him."

Over and over, babbling words as warm arms lifted him up carried him away. "I have to save him… We were in the Abyss… Help me find Gilbert… He's all I have… Help me find him…"

Footsteps echoing in dim-lit elaborate hallways. Stone statues and oil paintings glimpsed in the lantern light, visages staring out like ghosts. He didn't see where they took him, didn't care. The only consuming thought that wracked through his young mind.

_This is all my fault._

Minutes or hours passed. Time made no sense and no difference. Shadows, vague forms hovered around him. Voices overhead.

Vincent must've fallen asleep at one point, because he remembered waking up. Not to the nightmare playroom of broken toys and broken people, but an open, luxurious room with morning light streaming through towering windows. A bed, a blanket. Clean white sheets up to his neck, clean white bandages hiding all of the bloody red wounds.

"Sir, we found him before the front gates. The child said he came from the Abyss."

Vincent babbled. He couldn't stop, he couldn't stop until they listened, oh gods, please…. "We were in the Abyss… And I lost him… Help me find my brother…"

A towering man by his bedside. Hard black eyes, long black hair. Impeccable clothes in rich fabrics.

"What is your name, boy?"

Vincent blinked. He realized this was the first time someone had spoken to him directly since he landed in the real world. In a soft raspy voice, strained from the screams and the endless, mindless pleas, he answered, "Vincent."

"I am the Duke Nightray," the man said gravely. He leaned down over the bed and gave the child a critical eye. "I can help you find your brother."

Hope lifted up his frail heart. "You can?"

The Duke nodded curtly, his penetrating gaze seeming to pierce right through him. "Tell me, Vincent, about Gilbert and what you know about the Abyss."

And so he did.


	2. Chapter One

 

Chapter 1

_Five years later…_

"Gil!"

Vincent knew what had happened, as soon as he pulled Gilbert away from the threshold. He could feel his brother's shoulders shaking in his embrace, the scared panting of breath, the racing heartbeat fluttering as wildly as the trapped Raven that screamed out at them from beyond the Doorway to the Abyss.

They were alone. Together and alone in the Nightray cellar. He saw Gilbert reach out toward the Doorway, drawn by the pull of the Raven, and grabbed him before Gilbert became completely lost to the Abyss.

Vincent never wanted to lose his brother. Not ever again.

"Don't be sucked in by his power," he warned sharply as stray ebony feathers drifted around them. Already, the Chain had been drawn to his older brother's presence. The reason why played across Vincent's mind, but he locked the thought away. To distract himself, he picked up a feather from the ground and raised it up to the dim light.

"Was that Raven?" Gilbert murmured. Beneath the trembling fear in his voice, Vincent could also hear the tenseness caused by… could it be determination? Desire?

Vincent's heart sank. Raven wanted Gil just as much as Gil wanted Raven. He knew the Chain and the attempted contractor were still linked by a bond that began almost a hundred years ago. He remembered that.

But his dear brother didn't know, and he couldn't know. Because as soon as Gilbert found out who he truly was, what had happened all those years ago in Sablier and what Vincent did…

Yet this is what Gil wanted, and Vincent knew he couldn't deny anything his brother wanted.

"That's right," he answered, twisting the wretched feather between his fingers. His arm hooked up from beneath Gilbert's armpit and drew him closer. "It's said that the chain with black wings can create a path to the Abyss."

Since the weeks they've been reunited, it wasn't often they could touch like this, so close that Vincent could smell the scent of his brother's nervous sweat along his neck. Gil was very particular about who was allowed to touch him and when, flinching when someone approached too close. Strangers and perverts Vincent understood, but he was _family_.

It was fleeting thoughts like these that made him wish Gilbert's memories weren't buried away. Then Gil would know. They were always meant to be together, no matter what noble surnames they'd pick up and discard along the way.

Vincent and Gilbert will always remain.

"If you could form a contract with it, you might be able to save someone very important to you."

He tried to rein in the sadness in his voice as he said it. That important person should be _him_ , not that Vessalius brat. Break, the gray-haired creep from Pandora, had come by weeks before to hold a conference with his foster father, saying that he had found Vincent's long-lost brother. All this time, Gilbert had been with the Vessalius family as the personal valet to Oz, the duke's heir.

Oz was gone now – down into the Abyss, good riddance – and Gil returned. But things weren't the same as they had been before, when it was just the two of them. A part of Gil was still gone, like the memories that had hidden away in his mind.

Now, though Gil feigned disinterest in his former employer's family, Vincent sensed that his brother was lying. Why else would he agree to become a trainee with Pandora? And why else would the Duke go along with Gil's plans, if it weren't for the story Vincent confessed years ago, while bleeding and delirious at the gates of the Nightray manor?

The black-haired Duke only cared for them because Gil was the key to the Raven. Even if Gil wasn't fully aware, Vincent knew, and the Duke knew. That was a secret shared between them, however. The Duke wanted to keep his advantage – a guarantee that Raven would be tamed by a member of the Nightray household – hidden from the circle of nobles who envied the Nightray's Doorway and their claim to the Raven. To Vincent's understanding, court intrigue and assassination attempts were all the rage now as they had been a hundred years ago. As long as the Nightrays put up the illusion of uncertainty concerning the inheritance of their Chain, that smokescreen would safeguard them from any murderous plays by the other dukedoms or minor, but power-hungry, houses.

Gilbert demanded to join Pandora and they took him on upon Break's recommendation. Vincent wasn't sure if the clown or his organization knew the innate advantage Gilbert had, or why the Duke allowed someone so young start training for Pandora. Nevertheless, none of this would be possible if it weren't for that squawking Chain.

The Raven saved their lives as much as it ensnared them.

Gil's golden eyes remained focused upon the Doorway, a distracted look on his face.

The Raven wasn't what was ruining what good memories Vincent wanted to build with his brother, though. It was that horrible Oz boy. Vincent had never even met him, but already, he hated him. Hated him and his family for taking Gil….

 _Mine_ , Vincent thought fiercely. He pressed his face against his brother's shoulder and stroked his cheek with the feather's tip.

Instantly, the older Nightray recoiled. Vincent chuckled. His brother Gilbert, so easy to spook. Even when sleeping in the streets, he'd been the first one to jump at the sight of a roach or stray cat rustling in the garbage. Silly, older brother Gil. _My Gil._

The memory made Vincent smile. "It's OK, my brother can surely obtain that power." He rose to his feet and offered his hand. After a few more moments staring at the Doorway, Gilbert quickly turned away and let Vincent help pull him up. A warm feeling welled in his chest and he gripped his fingers around Gil's after Gil rose to his feet. Instantly, Gil flinched, breaking contact.

"I'll get the candle," he said quickly, grabbing the brass stick and moving swiftly past him toward the stone stairwell.

Vincent kept from frowning as he followed.

At times, Gil felt so close, as if all those walls had tumbled down between them, and then came moments where he slipped away as if Vincent was nothing to him. He half-feared Gil's flightiness was rooted in his _memory_ and that Gil hated him. Or maybe he viewed Vincent more as a Nightray than as his brother, despite being one himself now.

Vincent could see the future play out before him as he watched his brother walking up the stairs before him. _You'll fight for Raven and get him because that is your destiny_ , he thought as he climbed the steps _. And then you'll join Pandora to get back to the Abyss._

A sudden coldness – very much like the gust of wind that blew from the Doorway when the Raven screamed – ran down his spine. _But you have no idea how dangerous that place is, the horribleness of dragging you through the darkness with all of the dead and bleeding dollies (it wasn't my fault, never my fault, please, never)…_

He stumbled on the stairs, dropping the feather. Gil, who was walking behind him, caught his arm.

"Vince!" Gil gasped as Vincent shuddered against him. "You all right?"

( _it wasn't my fault, never my fault, please, never)_

Squeezing his eyes shut, he willed all thoughts of the Abyss away. "Nothing, brother. I'm just tired."

"Oh, I'm sorry for keeping you up so late." Gil bit his lower lip and hesitated. "Thank you for showing me the Doorway," he finally said, squeezing Vincent's shoulder and wrapping an arm around him as both of them returned to their room.

_Dear Gilbert can be so kind. So gentle…_

They reached their set of rooms, which were sequestered by the servants' quarters. Duke Nightray claimed it was because the other, older wings of the manor had been shut up from years of disuse and the staff had to air them out and refurnish them. They would have to share rooms for awhile. If Gil took this as a sign of their barely tolerated status in the household, he didn't say a word. Vincent didn't mind, personally, loving this nook away from the rest of the hostile glares from their adopted older siblings.

Entering their bedroom, Gilbert lowered the candle he carried and tucked Vincent into the large bed that they shared. He must've felt especially guilty, since he took a moment to pull up the covers over him before going to undress.

By the single flame burning on the bedstand, Vincent watched the long shadows Gil's form threw across the wall as he changed into a matching nightshirt. Bandages from the noble boy's sword wound _(hate that Oz scum for hurting Gil, hate him, hate him, hate him)_ were wrapped around his brother's skinny frame. Along his back, by the tip of one pale shoulder-blade, Vincent could faintly make out another nearly pale scar, one so faded and old it was almost invisible. Gil had two scars now, one in front and back, made by the people he thought loved him so much.

Vincent frowned. He knew when Gil got _that_ old scar, even if his older brother didn't.

After Gilbert climbed into bed, Vincent cuddled up to him. For a second, he felt Gil freeze up, before relaxing, un-spooling the day's tensions away. His silent permission.

Touching Gilbert here was all right, at night in the dark under the sheets together. Vincent was _family_ , this was allowed.

The body remembers, Vincent realized, even when the mind doesn't.

How many nights did they spend together in a bare sideshow cage, with Gilbert shielding him with his own body so people would stop staring? How many days had Gilbert fought with punches, kicks, and bites before grabbing Vincent's hand to flee from the angry storekeepers or minor noblemen that they stole from? How many seasons had they lain curled up in an alleyway or countryside ditch, huddled for warmth?

In a way, Gilbert remembered everything. _Maybe this is the best way for us to know each other_ , Vincent mused, tucking his head into the crook of his brother's neck. Etching memories in the flesh. In the rise and fall of breaths in-sync and the steady, ever-constant beat of their hearts together.

"Thank you, Gilbert," Vincent murmured sleepily.

"For what?"

"For being my big brother." He let his eyes close.

And while drifting in the realm between wakefulness and sleep, Vincent completed the train of thought he started while climbing out of the Nightray cellar.

The world was a terrible, wretched place. And Gil wanted to go someplace even worse than this one.

If Gilbert planned to get Raven and go back into the Abyss, then Vincent needed his own Chain.

This time, he'd protect Gilbert from all harm.

This time, he'd get it right.


	3. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vincent undergoes his contractor trial to capture the elusive Dormouse.

 

Chapter 2

"Vince, you don't need to do this."

_Don't interrupt~!_ Fabric ripped between metal blades and the pale white fluff emerged, soft as clouds. As soon as the cut was competed, Vincent gave a satisfied exhale and beamed up at his brother standing in the doorway to his sitting room. They had stopped living together when Vincent turned fourteen and Gil moved to the renovated wing on the other side of the manor. It was rare that Gil stopped by Vincent's little nest by the servant's quarters. Usually, Vincent was the one inquiring on his brother's whereabouts.

Any other time, Vincent would've felt thrilled to have seen him. Not tonight though. Still, he kept the cheerfulness in his voice as he asked benignly, "Is Gil as excited about tomorrow as I am?"

Gilbert crossed his arms and glanced away, letting his silence speak for him. He had failed the first round of Pandora examinations, which is why Vincent stood on trial before him. His older brother's weapons test was rescheduled in a couple of weeks and only after passing that would Pandora allow him to stand before the Doorway himself.

His foster brothers took that as a sign that Gilbert was actually ill-suited for Raven, but Duke Nightray would hear none of that, fully believing in Vincent's story about his older brother.

"Or is he jealous that I'll be on trial for a Chain before him?" Vincent loved watching the faces he made. Sometimes, reading other people's faces was hard for Vincent, but he could always tell what his older brother was feeling. He watched the emotions play across Gilbert's face: concern, envy, anger, and finally, embarrassment at being exposed so easily.

Truth was, tomorrow frightened Vincent. But fear was a terrible feeling. And the only way to make the dark emotions disappear was with a simple _snip-snip_ of his scissors. Vincent dragged a single scissor blade down the center of the teddie. Perfect lines. Soft down rising – pure, white, pristine – from the tear. Rip into the bad feelings, pull out the fear…

He continued reasonably, "You know I was always the more skilled one."

Oh, and that reaction! A light flush crossed Gilbert's cheeks and his lips drawn to thin line in self-admonishing way. His brother looked so adorable when flustered.

Ever since Gilbert began training at Pandora, Vincent had always been at his heels, following him around the shooting ranges and combat grounds until the organization's members began referring to them simply as "the brothers." Not only that, but he helped Duke Nightray investigate other methods of Chain research. Hours had been spent in the Pandora libraries and traveling around the country to find various obscure books about the Abyss and its inhabitants. Buried amid dusty stands or leafing through moldering scrolls, Vincent had unearthed rumors of one creature in particular that could be of use to the Nightray family: the elusive Dormouse.

Getting this Chain, however, risked provoking the wrath of the Raven. After all, it was known by Duke Nightray that the Raven had forbidden anyone to enter the Doorway who wasn't going to be his contractor.

And it wasn't as if Raven could be tamed by anyone else other than Gilbert. One by one, Vincent's older foster brothers had passed through its threshold and received nothing but blood and terror for their efforts. And after experiencing the Chain's murderous crowing once, none of the other elder Nightrays wanted to risk their lives again for the Dormouse, leaving this attempt up to Vincent. Having him acquire a Chain too would only benefit the Nightray family. A noble family who could wield two powerful chains instead of just one was a political advantage that the Duke could not resist.

Not that Vincent minded. It was part of his plan, after all.

"Yes but," Gil said bluntly, "there's no _reason_ for you to take a Chain."

Tuffs of white stuffing spilled to the floor. There they go, there they all go. Calmness settled over Vincent as he yanked the stuffing out. Squish it out, tear it up, scatter it all away.

"Of course there is." Vincent arched an eyebrow and lowered his scissors. "Duke Nightray desires it. And you know how I'd hate to disappoint our dearest foster father." He said the last bit mockingly—it was a private joke the brothers shared, since the Duke was far from "dearest" to their hearts.

"That man's a greedy bastard and we both know it. He's the only one who wants you to do this."

True enough. Their adopted older siblings and uncle tried to prevent Vincent from getting this far. They suspected him of trying to get Raven for himself, the fools. No, the Raven was not for him, but he was to get a far better Chain in his opinion.

"You'd be exposing yourself to needless danger," Gilbert continued. "We don't even know if Raven would let you pass into the Abyss."

"Oh, the Chain I'm looking for would be already waiting," Vincent replied, smoothing out the rumbled felt of his torn stuffed toy. "The Dormouse always lurks in the Raven's shadow."

"That doesn't make it any easier!" he retorted, that cute look of anger emboldening his gaze as he balled his fists at his side. "Besides, you've never even been in the Abyss, so-"

"And you have?" _We were both there, brother. If only you remembered…_

"Well, that time you showed me the Doorway…" Gilbert ran his hand through his hair. "I can't believe _you're_ going through this."

"Big brother worries too much. Once you contract the Raven, it'll be fine. We can even become partners at Pandora." He rose from the table and let the teddie drop from his fingers. Dead feelings go, drop away like flies. "Wouldn't that be splendid?" he beamed as he approached his brother.

He protested, "I don't need a partner-"

"Now don't be silly." Vincent leaned forward and dragged a finger down Gilbert's chest. "We'd be perfect."

Gil shuffled backwards, eyes narrowing. "Stop getting those ideas."

So endearing. "What ideas? That I can't be helpful to you, brother?" Vincent tilted his head to the side, a small smile crossing his features.

Gilbert rubbed the back of his neck and sighed in exasperation.

"Are you afraid that I'd go off and rescue your precious person before you can?" he smirked. He'd rather feed the Oz brat to a Suit in bloody chunks than go after him.

"No," his brother glowered, "I already have enough to worry about." Liar. Gilbert wanted to be the hero, Vincent knew. He wanted to protect the person he adored.

"I'd never be up for saving him anyways," Vincent added truthfully.

Distracted, Gil didn't sense Vincent's venomous undertone. "It's just that…" He slumped against the doorframe. "I don't know why I didn't pass the marksman's test. I'd gotten all the targets in field practice."

_Because I had that fat old bird at Pandora arrange for the targets to be shifted before the final exam._ After all, how helpful could Vincent be if he didn't have time to acquire and train his Chain before Gil ran off with Raven?

He fingered the pale crystal mirror glinted around his neck, a necessary gift from the matronly woman who'd clasped Vincent to her bosom and murmured how much of a nice strong buck Vincent was. Her touch disgusted him, but he bore it well because she was one of the recruiting authorities at Pandora and it was with her permission that the Nightray's Doorway to the Abyss would be open for Vincent to acquire a Chain.

He noticed Gilbert's eyes linger on that crystal dancing across his fingers. His envy cut as quick and sharp as a dagger. Vincent let the unsealed pendant drop beneath his nightshirt.

"You'll pass next time, Gilbert." he assured him. "You'll succeed at the trial." He reached out to lift Gil's chin, and instead, caught a lock of silken black hair.

Leaning in to twist it with his finger, Vincent noticed how Gil's breath hitched. "How do you know?" he asked, eyes full of self-doubt.

"Because some things are simply fate." _Like us._ Vincent brushed a hand along his shoulder. "You'll see."

Gil's flush deepened and he shoved past Vincent to slip out the doorway. "You better get the Dormouse, then," he said begrudgingly. "Because I don't want to hunt for you in the Abyss too."

Vincent watched his brother huff off wistfully. He wasn't so frightened anymore. Not if his brother was frightened for him.

xxxxxxx

Early the next morning, Vincent found himself confronting the Doorway to the Abyss, standing in crowded cellar amongst people he considered family and foes alike. He was dressed in a formal dark blue frockcoat with gold trim and matching trousers. The crystal mirror lay tucked underneath his cravat, but within easy reach.

_What a foul bunch of hypocrites_ , Vincent thought, mentally assessing the line of true-blooded Nightrays before him. How dare they give him those sulking looks when they were too cowardly to face their own family's Chain to get the Dormouse! Only plucky Elliot had volunteered to enter the Doorway in Vincent's place. With him being only ten, though, his mother adamantly refused to risk her youngest child.

_The Duke's greed will someday be your downfall,_ Vincent predicted darkly. But at the moment, he did not care, since he was going to get what he wanted from the bargain.

He approached each member of the Nightray family on his way toward the Doorway to the Abyss. Duke Nightray clasped a heavy hand on his shoulder and gave a curt nod. "Good luck, Vincent," he said, but Vincent noted the selfish glint in his eye.

Beside him, Lady Nightray brushed the hair from Vincent's forehead in a motherly gesture—or at least it would've been if her face was not so rigid. Vanessa, his foster sister, was equally as cold and glared at him accusingly as if his mere presence was an affront to the family's honor. She was beautiful in the same way her father was handsome, but high society hadn't been kind to her. Despite her age, no one had asked for her hand or had been interested in visiting her at the manor; rumors circulated that it was because no one was interested in the questionable grasp on power that the Nightrays held, especially with their sordid family history. Vincent didn't doubt that her disdain for him was in part because of society's rejection of her.

His eldest foster brother Fred was home from his latest ambassador trip abroad and stood a bit off to the side. Out of all of the naturally-born Nightray brothers, Fred was the most unfamiliar to Vincent. Already twenty years his senior when Vincent and Gilbert were adopted into the household, Fred spent most of his time in politics, traveling abroad and living in his own manor house on the southern side of the country. He never came home except for family occasions, and sometimes, Vincent forgot that he was the Nightray heir and not some distant but imposing observer. Always diplomatic, he gave a slight nod and held Vincent's hand in his own. His touch was dry and unreadable.

Ernest and Claude, the adopted brothers he knew best (while usually at their worst), remained stone-faced. Vincent noticed how Ernest played with the handle of the revolver at his side. He wondered if he planned to do something drastic in case Vincent proved to be successful.

Only Elliot gave his adopted brother a grin and clasped his hand. "Knock 'em good, Vince," he said. Vincent smiled. There was a reason why he liked him best among his adopted family.

And finally, his real and true brother stood before him.

Vincent noticed the tension in Gilbert's face hadn't eased. Before he could say any final word of protest, Vincent snaked his arms around him in tight embrace. "Wish me luck," he murmured in his ear before letting go.

The Nightrays stood alongside several officials from Pandora, including that clown Xerxes Break. On his shoulder perched that creepy little doll. Vincent shuddered upon seeing it. The doll's eyes were always judging him at Pandora headquarters, at every training lecture, every weapons practice, every meeting. He wanted to stab that thing in the face.

But Break, apparently, was presiding over his contractor trial. A shortage of legal contractors, Pandora claimed, meant they should take advantage of any opportunity to add new talent. And Vincent – being so young and possessing that talent in spades – would be a valuable asset to the organization.

The old man didn't even appear to take this whole thing seriously. He waved a long sleeve at him as he sucked on a lollipop.

"Well, well, well, Vincent Nightray, the genius brother," he smirked, moving the candy's stick around his mouth as he talked. "It's like only yesterday did I see you trotting after Gil around the shooting range." He bit down on the sweet with a loud crunch that aggravated Vincent's nerves. "Who knew that you'd find us this lovely loophole?"

As flattering as that sounded, Vincent riled inwardly at the indirect slight against his brother. "So we're ready to start, Break?" Gilbert retorted, obviously irritated as well.

"I'm ready when your little brother is."

_Shut up, you lazy old man!_ Vincent grinned, masking his anger. "I was only waiting for Mr. Break to finish up his sweets," he replied brightly. "Since it wouldn't be effective to have him choke on his lolly if the Raven broke out during my trial."

Break spit the stick out of his mouth and frowned. "Get on with this then, boy," he replied with a glare.

Turning his back to everyone, Vincent faced the Doorway to the Abyss. The tall portal loomed over them all, and the inky blackness past the slender archways appeared thick and impenetrable. Vincent touched the mirror amulet on his neck again to reassure it was there.

Reaching out, he felt an eerie flash of memory washed over him of another Doorway, in another place, decades ago—

_-an explosion-_

_-darkness-_

_-and when he awoke, everything was red-_

No! That won't happen this time! Vincent plunged forward, eyes shut, before the memories of the Tragedy stayed his hand.

And then—

The rattle of chains in the eerie mist. Overhead, metal links hung, and the smell of rust and water filled the air.

The edges of the Abyss.

Vincent took a step forward to no avail. His feet were anchored down like stones. What was going on? This was never anticipated in training—

**You!**

The voice pounded into his skull. Vincent clasped the sides of his head. Before him a giant eye glared.

**Why are you here, human?**

"I seek an audience with the Dormouse."

**There is no Dormouse. Only the Raven.**

Two more eyes popped open in the darkness, huge and yellow.

**You cannot enter.**

"I'm not. I want the Dormouse."

**The Dormouse is not here. You cannot enter.**

He tried pulling his feet up again but failed. "It's not like you're presenting me the opportunity to do so."

A dry wind stirred and the air seemed to vibrate. The tails of Vincent's frockcoat flapped and his hair blew back. Above him, the chains groaned and clanked together.

He opened his mouth to scream. "Dormouse! I demand an audience! I deman-"

**You demand nothing!**

A giant wing slammed into Vincent, sending his body flying. He collapsed onto his side. Winded, he looked up to see the giant bird emerge from the depths, cawing wildly. Immense wings filled his vision. The metal chains grew taut as the Raven lurched toward him. He saw the gaping beak snap. Shielding his head in his arms, he curled up into a fetal position before Raven's giant talons struck—

And then it stopped.

Raven toppled forward, suddenly limp. Its raging gaze evaporated, its wings tucked tightly around its body. The head didn't move. The Chain was… asleep, held suspended in a nest of tangled links.

Vincent uncurled himself. He heard a tiny, child-like voice by his ear.

_hello_

"Well, hello there," Vincent greeted hoarsely, getting to his feet.

_where did you come from?_

"The outside. And what about you?"

A shadow fell upon his face. The presence of another Chain, lurking.

_i heard some noise and came from the Borderlands to investigate_

_are you for the Raven?_

"No." Vincent angled his head to get a better look at the Chain floating above. "I'm for you."

A jagged vibration rumbled through his head, and Vincent grabbed his temples again. After a moment, he realized it was the Dormouse laughing. Looking around, he tried to pinpoint the source of the sound—

_what a peculiar human you are_

He lifted his head to see the large stuffed toy.

Toy.

A twist in his stomach in recognition of the hundreds of torn teddies in his past. The Dormouse was an immense and gaudy toddler's plaything: all plump and furry with a shiny winding key sticking from its back. The tail, long and thickly muscled, belied its cuddly look. But it was the face that intrigued Vincent the most: the mouth resembled a single line of thread, barely noticeable. Its eyes were hideously sewn shut by a series of clumsily-made stitches.

_How fitting,_ he thought wryly. A Chain that resembled the animals he ripped to shreds every day. This must be a sign that foretold how easily Vincent could tame this monster.

_why do you want me?_

"You are more powerful than you seem." Vincent said. "I've read the manuscripts. While most Chains inhabit only the dimension of the Abyss, you also come from elsewhere. The Borderlands."

Again, the low vibrating noise intensified, making his ears ring.

_hmmmmmmmmm_

_yes i do and i can take people to the realm of sleep_

"I want that power."

_my power?_ The Dormouse said innocently.

"What you did to the Raven. And more. I want you to take people to the Borderlands." That was the hidden ability of the Dormouse: opening another realm inside the mind, unfolding layers of consciousness until it entered the world of the Borderlands. If Vincent mastered that power, even the most terrifying Chain in the deepest part of the Abyss would be no match for him. He could protect Gil in the Abyss with the Dormouse by his side. Even that white-haired Alyss who occasionally haunts his dreams would be rendered helpless before the rodent Chain.

The Dormouse's nose twitched as it dipped lower to sniff Vincent's neck.

_are you worthy of being my contractor?_

"Are you worthy of being my Chain?"

_such arrogance_

With its face right in Vincent's, the sewn eyes opened ever so slightly.

Wine red eyes.

They were both forsaken creatures.

This must be fate.

_i make dreams become reality for those who desire it_

_let me taste your dreams_

The Dormouse's tail flashed and tore open his coat. Vincent felt a fleeting pain on his shoulder. Blood dripped from the lash wound. The giant rodent lowered himself further until he almost perched on his shoulder near his exposed flesh. A tiny pink tongue darted from between its lips as the Chain artfully lapped up his blood.

Vincent shuddered at the creature's touch. Toys shouldn't touch him like this. He'd kill it, he'd stab it—

When he glanced over again, he saw Gilbert dragging his tongue gently across his shoulder. Coy eyes glanced up through tousled hair. A slow smile.

_what do you desire, Vincent Nightray?_

His breath caught in his throat.

_i like your dreams_

"I like you," Gilbert whispered through half-lidded eyes. A trickle of blood glistened on his lips. His older brother's body pressed against him from behind. He offered a wrist toward Vincent's lips, where a shiny bead of blood welled from an open cut. "Do you like me too?"

A scent, old and dusty like forgotten attics, filled his nose. He coughed.

_This is a trick_ , he thought vaguely. _Don't drink the Chain's blood._

The illusionary Gil smirked. His brother never looked at him in that way, Vincent knew, yet that knowledge didn't stop his heart from thumping harder in his chest.

He thought, _Drink and I'll be an illegal contractor._

"Let me take you, Vincent."

Hearing those words triggered an intense longing that reached all the way to his groin. He swallowed, hard. That tempting wrist brushed below his chin. The contact of skin on skin – so loving, so kind, so Gil…

He grabbed the Chain's offered wrist fiercely and jabbed the edge of the crystal mirror into the cut. "Don't play me for a fool, Dormouse!" he snapped.

Black blood smeared, and a high-pitched squeal made his eardrums ring with pain. The amulet glowed as the seal branded itself against the glass.

In a blink the Chain's animal face reappeared, its intoxicating smell of molded paper and cobwebs nearly choking him. The paw he held was grotesquely swollen, like a dead limb of a drowned man. Its light colored fur felt oily under his fingers. A wicked urge rose up from his gut to wretch the paw off as if the Chain was only another useless teddie. But the fur shifted and slipped from his hold. The Dormouse launched itself away, bobbing like a balloon from a child's clumsy grip.

Another vibrating giggle.

_Vincent Nightray,_ it sang, _how peculiar you are indeed_

When Vincent woke up next, he lay on the stone floor of the Nightray cellar, as the humming of the Dormouse echoed in his ears and surrounding Pandora officers helped him to his feet. The glass around his neck, now red with the blood of the Dormouse, glittered in the lamplight.


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Vincent learns to handle the Dormouse, tensions arise as the rest of the Nightray family question its reliability when Gilbert's own trial for Raven approaches. Still no smut (yet), but features narcoleptic!Vincent, sulky!Gil, and Rageful!Ernest.

  
Chapter 3

"I'm fine, brother," Vincent said sleepily as the carriage bumped along the road from Pandora headquarters. "Stop looking so upset."

Gilbert sat across from him, staring out the window. He was being sulky, again. That seemed to be his default mode ever since Vincent acquired the Dormouse almost three weeks ago. Vincent wasn't blind to his brother's feelings – they shared a blood bond after all – but even this long-term dour mood was becoming very unlike his brother.

Vincent yawned again, trying to stay awake. After contracting the Dormouse, he was sick for days after, bedridden. The Chain's waves of power would overwhelm him at unexpected moments, leaving him unconscious for hours at a time. It had gotten so bad that Reim Lunettes, Rufus Barma's assistant, had taken to following him around Pandora carrying a pillow in case he should collapse in the hallway unexpectedly.

Within the bouts of darkness, Vincent met the Dormouse. The Dormouse murmured softly about dreams and memories and thoughts that floated in the Borderlands that the Dormouse took him to. During these periods of timelessness in his mind, Vincent learned a lot about his Chain, more than Pandora ever knew.

Each person had the Doorway to the Borderlands inside them, the Dormouse had explained, and a person was able to mold the Borderlands into any dream or nightmare that dwelled inside their thoughts. Outside of dreaming, the Borderlands of Vincent's mind – and of most minds, actually - was smooth and barren, except for the flow of not-wet water (because it was really not-water, not existing), that sent concentric circles rippling out with every step Vincent took.

_this is our secret knowledge_ , the Dormouse said, _speak of it to no one_

"Why not?"

_because if others travel through the Borderlands_

_it can be dangerous_

"You mean, other Chains?"

_no_ , said the Dormouse, _other souls_

_you do not want another soul to enter your Doorway to the Borderlands_

_for then it can have access to your body_

_and your mind_

Thinking this over, Vincent had asked, "Do you have a Doorway to the Borderlands in your mind, Dormouse?"

It laughed, a high-pitched titter.

_you'll never know, human_

_you'll never know_

During his waking hours in Pandora, though, Vincent's training was far more unproductive. The researchers were invested in trying to get Vincent to summon the Dormouse out of the Abyss, but, try as he might, Vincent couldn't. At first, he passed it off as a sort of unspoken deal between him and the Dormouse: a secret trading of information for only between themselves. But as the weeks passed and the Dormouse refused to be summoned, Vincent started to worry.

In the meantime, the Pandora officials decided that the Dormouse was too passive and languid to be of any use. They couldn't figure out how such a weak Chain slipped past the Raven in order to contract with Vincent.

As the silence lengthened in the carriage, Vincent finally decided to address the root of Gilbert's worries.

"Tomorrow is Gilbert's trial for Raven."

A grunt from his brother, and he pulled the hat down lower over his eyes. Unlike Vincent's newly-issued uniform, Gil wore his training outfit—a long black trench coat over black trousers and a white shirt with his now customary black hat sitting low over his face. Vincent recalled that it was a gift from the wench of the brat's family. The Vessalius house—they couldn't keep themselves away from his brother even after Vincent saved him from them.

"Have you been practicing the holding techniques Break showed us?"

"They didn't help you, did they?" Gil replied tensely. He already grilled Vincent about all the details concerning his trial, and Vincent told him the truth about everything, except for the very end when the Dormouse tempted him in his brother's image.

Sometimes, when he was sure his Chain was not curled up in the corner of his mind, Vincent stroked himself, thinking of Dormouse's Gilbert and the things they would do together. Other times, he wanted to ask the Dormouse to take him to Gilbert's Borderlands, but half-feared seeing his brother entangled in the arms of that blond brat.

"The Dormouse works very differently than the Raven."

"Considering the abilities it has shown so far, I wonder if anything we've been taught works."

Poor Gilbert. He shouldn't be thinking such sad thoughts over nothing. "You know what I think?"

"What?"

"That the Raven is waiting for you. That is why it is so frightening to others."

A shudder went through Gil. "But why me, then?"

"Because… because he's met you before."

A golden eye glanced over at Vincent from across the carriage. "You mean when..?"

Vincent let him assume it was when they were both down in the cellar years ago, and not the hundred years in the vanished realm of Gil's lost memories. "I… I think it wants you." He tried to keep his tone light as he lied. "That is what I felt while in the Abyss."

A confused expression crossed his brother's face. "Why didn't you tell me this before?"

"I didn't want to scare Gil. Having such a scary Chain after him would only make Gilbert worry." Another wave of weariness washed over Vincent as he said this. The side effects of the Dormouse, but not strong enough to take him entirely. He fluttered his eyelids as he slumped forward.

"Vince!" Gil grabbed him by the shoulders. Eyes closed, Vincent sensed his brother leaning him against the seat and so he made his limbs go heavy, so his body wouldn't lie comfortably in the jostling carriage. He waited for his brother to make the next move. He heard Gil heave a sigh and the squeak of seat springs as he moved to sit beside him.

Gil wrapped an arm around Vincent's waist and propped him on his shoulder. Out of the corner of his vision, Vincent caught the look of concern on the other man's face and restrained himself from smiling. With his head resting against his chest, Vincent let the canvas of Gil's coat rub against his cheek. Gil grumbled to himself as straightened Vincent's posture.

As non-suggestive his brother's contact was, Vincent nonetheless felt a subtle thrill along his limbs from Gil's rough handling. Feigning sleep, Vincent savored the smell of gunpowder and musk and Gil for the rest of the carriage ride home.

There were some advantages to having the Dormouse around, even without summoning it.

xxxxxxx

Arriving back at Nightray manor, Joseph the head steward met them at the front of the manor and waited for the carriage driver to open the door for them. Vincent slumped against his brother and had managed to link arms with him in his false sleep.

"Greetings young masters," Joseph welcomed, not batting an eye on the fact that Vincent clung to his brother so intimately. Vincent's behavior was well-known among the Nightray household. "The Duke requests that you come to his study as soon as possible."

In a quiet voice, Gil explained, "Vincent's had another spell. Have someone bring him to his rooms and I'll go by myself."

"The Duke requests for the presence from both of you," Joseph replied. "Your uncle has arrived this morning from the country and it's best you don't delay." Over time, the remaining bits of brown in his whiskers had turned completely gray, but the old servant retained his courtly manners and clipped speech, especially toward Vincent and Gilbert.

Vincent felt Gil tense up at the mention of the Duke's bothersome brother-in-law. More than anyone else, he was against their adoption from the start and the favoritism that the Duke had bestowed upon them concerning the family's Chain.

Gil shook his shoulder roughly. "Hey," he said in a loud voice. "We've returned to the manor."

Slowly, Vincent pretended to rouse himself. "Were you saying something, brother?" he asked after a yawn.

"Our dearest foster father has summoned us to his study. Uncle is here."

"Oh, what a treat. Let's welcome him." Vincent hopped out of the carriage and straightened his uniform. Gilbert followed sullenly behind him.

Inside, the ashen-haired Ernest opened the door to the Duke's study. Vincent dodged the forceful hand from shoving him toward the pair of chairs by the large mahogany desk. He and Gilbert had gotten quite adept at avoiding the subtle violence that his older foster brothers inflicted upon them.

Sitting down, Vincent crossed his legs and waved to his older relations standing before him. Gilbert slipped in, but stood warily by the door instead of taking a seat. Always itching for the nearest escape route, especially when it came to confronting their family.

The Duke sat at the desk with his hands folded, and their brothers Fred and Claude stood by the far window. Their uncle leaned at the corner of the desk, grimacing openly at them both. In contrast to the Duke's tall and imposing frame with the sharply-groomed goatee, their in-law was short and stout, with wide shoulders and a round, clean-shaven face.

He also didn't mince words, pointing directly at Vincent. "I cannot believe Bernard invested so much in you," he snapped. "I've been hearing about your failures at taming your Chain."

The Duke raised a hand. "Calm yourself," he said softly. "The Dormouse is a strong Chain, and we can't expect Vincent to control it immediately."

"A strong Chain? The thing is useless. There are no records of it being contracted for hundreds of years, and all we know of the beast is its pathetic snoring."

"I don't believe the Dormouse snores, actually," Vincent piped up. "It's a pretty light sleeper."

"Don't taunt me! No wonder the boy's chosen such a failure." The man's bushy eyebrows furrowed.

The Duke replied calmly, "I've seen the scrolls. I believe the Dormouse has much potential."

"Potential," his uncle sneered. "Only you would be foolish enough to rear these street urchins in the name of potential. We might as well have Elliot contract a Chain if we're looking for potential."

From his place standing at the window, Fred soothed, "Uncle, we know you're angry, and we certainly share your concern." The Nightray heir faced the room, his hands causally folded behind him. "What Vincent chooses to do with his life is really none of our concern at this point. We should be grateful to control a Chain at least, no matter how minor. Especially since this Chain has been so elusive for such a long time. I'm certain Pandora can use the creature for researching into the Abyss if nothing else, and that can only strengthen our partnership with them."

Ah, always the diplomat, like his father—Vincent could almost believe how sincere Fred sounded toward him.

"I have a different issue at hand." Fred arched at eyebrow at Gilbert in the corner. "Vincent is a talented young man, but it has been almost a month, and even he cannot tame this Chain. Who is to say that Gilbert would be able to handle the Raven?"

Instantly, Gilbert's face reddened. "Are you questioning my abilities?"

"Yes," Fred replied coolly. "It only makes sense, considering that Vincent was the darling of Pandora and how poorly he's faring."

"Can't you see how they're deceiving you? They're not of noble blood, and you know how the lower classes are." The uncle's eyes narrowed. "They're crafty, these filthy ingrates. Dealing in promises on one hand while leeching off your generosity with the other."

Gil stood there, staring stonily at the ground. Vincent willed his brother to say something to his defense, but knew Gil would never talk back to the Duke or the Duchess's brother. That Vessalius brat must've broken Gil into such obedience; he never used to be that way…

Vincent appealed to the Duke, rising to his feet. "You _know_ Gilbert," he hinted, clamping both hands on the desk and looking at the Duke right in the eye. "I didn't lie about my brother."

"Don't impose upon my father-" Ernest raised an arm to backhand Vincent-

"Ugh!" Gilbert flew in, forearm raised to block the blow. Vincent tumbled backwards across the desk; the Duke got up from his seat before they crashed into each other.

"Gil…!"

How many times had this scene been enacted in childhood, with his brother taking the blows meant for him? Ernest's bullying happened when they were much younger and now, at the cusp of eighteen, Gil stood a head taller than him. Though lanky, his reflexes were quick and that defensive anger flashed in his brother's golden eyes. Vincent couldn't help but stare as Gil shielded him from harm, challenging Ernest with right arm raised and left one drawing back to punch-

"Enough." Fred intervened, taking hold of Gilbert's arm. Claude moved on the other side to pull Ernest away. Vincent heard him mutter, "Calm yourself, Ern. Don't foul yourself anymore by touching that scum."

The ashen-haired Nightray noble sneered as he jerked away from Claude's hold. "You're right," he announced loudly. "Besides, once Father realizes what a fool he's been all these years, the gutter rats will be back on the streets in no time." He stormed out of the room; Claude made as if to pursue him, but the Duke waved a hand in dismissal.

"Leave him be," the Duke ordered. "I will speak to him later."

But that was not the only angered Nightray in the room. "Ernest speaks the truth that you're too afraid to admit," his uncle snapped. "Your charity cases are of no use to our family and only bring embarrassment to us among society."

Gilbert stepped away, trying to maintain what dignity he could. Vincent reached over to help straighten his coat, only to have Gilbert turn his back on him.

"Vince," he snapped. "Don't."

_i'm hungry, Vincent Nightray_

Suddenly, vertigo hit.

This was the Dormouse for real, not Vincent faking it. He stumbled upon the carpet and fell to his knees. Gil whirled around; the older Nightrays were still arguing and hadn't noticed him tumble. At the verge of consciousness, bright colors flashed across Vincent's eyes as the floor rushed to him. He heard Gil cry his name before the Dormouse did.

Next thing he knew, Vincent was in the featureless realm of his unconsciousness, that in-between place before sleep and waking, awareness and forgetfulness. The realm of the Borderlands.

_i've been waiting_

The Dormouse appeared before him out of the nothingness.

"For what?"

_for your dreams_

_i need to feed_

"You will be fed."

_you must give me blood or dreams, Vincent Nightray_

_i've had nothing during all these weeks_

_you do not please me_

The Dormouse nudged him sharply with its muzzle. The sinewy tail wrapped around his torso, entrapping his arms. The smell of mold and decay filled his nose, contaminating him.

_i can keep you here in the Borderlands_

_you will hunger and know how hungry i feel_

Vincent struggled. "I am your master, Dormouse. Let me go."

_you are master of nothing, human_

The coils of its tail tightened across his chest.

It dawned on Vincent how utterly helpless he was. _This Chain can kill me,_ he thought, panicking. _It can kill me screaming in my own mind and it'd only look like I died peacefully in my sleep._ "Dormouse," he pleaded.

Suddenly, the Chain's hold loosened. The Dormouse bobbed its head as it gently began to rise into the air, leaving Vincent clutching his chest and doubled over in pain.

_you deny me blood_

_so give me your dreams_

Vincent woke, gasping. _I'm alive!_ He thought. _Thank the gods, I'm alive_.

Looking around, he found himself in his own bedroom, dressed in his nightclothes. In the corner by the door leading to his sitting room, Gilbert sat slumped in a chair, his hat covering his face.

"Gil?"

"You're up." His brother stirred, letting the hat drop to the ground. "Finally, damn it."

"And yet you're here." Vincent glanced up at the clock. It was just past midnight. "Have you been waiting for me this whole time?"

He muttered. "I wasn't sure if I could go through with Raven's trial if you weren't awake."

"Why?"

"You _know_ why." Gilbert rubbed his face with a gloved hand. "You shouldn't have done this," he said tiredly. "You're not prepared to control a Chain."

"I've been doing better," Vincent replied in a cool voice.

"Not from what I've seen." Gilbert's eyes flashed. "You can't even handle yourself!"

His severe tone startled Vincent into sitting up. Vincent had rarely seen Gilbert this mad for this long, not since lashing out at that Alice wench when they were only children years and years ago…when he made that expression that Vincent hated so much, because it was so not-Gil.

And Vincent was the cause of this.

Numbly, he repeated, "I can't?"

"Everyone at Pandora is wondering how useful you'll be as a recruit. You heard our foster uncle complaining. Do you think our lives will be any easier here if the Duke thinks he has to watch over us like children?" he spat bitterly. "Don't you realize how much pressure this puts on me to tame Raven? But instead of practicing techniques, here I am by your side, because I'm the only one who knows what to do with you anymore!"

At that point, Gil's shoulders slumped, as if a cartload weighed down on his shoulders in an instant. The two of them stared at one another: Gil, slightly stunned at his torrent of emotion and Vincent, blankly as his tried to bury his deep inside. But it was too much. He felt his chest constrict, and his fingers itched. He had to let them go, he had to cut them off, cut them all up into tiny, tiny pieces.

His eyes fell on the black hat lying on the carpet between them. From his bedstand, he spotted his gold-plated shears and softly slipped his fingers into the rings of the handle.

That Vessalius brat, that Vessalius wench… If he could only snip-snip that all away…Yes, it was them that made Gil angry, from constantly worrying about getting the Raven to save _him_ …He wanted to cut the Vessalius family up into bits…

Gil raised his head as his brother got up from bed. For a split moment, his eyes widened as he saw Vincent zoom in on his hat. Their fingertips brushed as he snatched the piece of clothing up.

His gaze turned to steel. "Don't. You. Dare."

That terrible voice again. That face, so hateful.

_He hates me, my brother hates me, why is he looking at me like that, why?_ Vincent froze and blinked. "I…I don't…"

He fell to his knees on the carpet. All his fault. Again.

Then, a touch on his shoulders. A voice, nearly spent. Weary.

Vincent looked up at his older brother's fatigued gaze, all that fiery anger suddenly drained out of him. Black tendrils of his hair fell in front of his face and Vincent fought the urge to brush those curling strands aside. "I didn't mean to yell," he said lowly, as if trying to convince himself. "It's late. We've had a long day. We need to sleep. The trial's tomorrow."

His brother's resigned expression made Vincent's chest tighten. That same look he'd seen so many times when Gil was hurt but tried to not blame him for it. Such a good brother. Vincent didn't deserve him.

A thought floated up from the back of Vincent's mind. The Dormouse's explanation: a lasting touch on the head would put anyone to sleep. A consistent touch elsewhere, however, using enough focus and will directing the Dormouse's power, would send someone to the Borderlands.

"You'll… you'll be good, Gil. You were _meant_ to have the Raven," he managed to say in a small voice. If Gil knew about his past, would he stop acting with only tolerance in mind? The secret hovered at his lips, so tempting. But then he'd now how much Vincent had failed. How terrible he was. No, better to have Gil cold towards him than hate him forever.

Wordlessly, Gilbert patted him on the shoulder and hauled him up by the crook of the elbow. Vincent left himself be herded back to bed and slipped beneath the covers.

"I should let you rest more," Gil said, starting to exit.

"Wait." Vincent grabbed his hand in both of his. Gilbert gave a backwards glance over his shoulder, his lean silhouette outlined by the light from the open doorway. "Don't leave angry. I don't want Gil to be angry before his trial."

One lasting touch, skin upon skin to take Gil to the Borderlands. His fingers slipped beneath the cuff of his brother's sleeve to stroke the inside of his wrist. That same spot where the Dormouse's imaginary Gil had tempted him.

That moment, Gil's arm eased and relaxed, even if the expression on his face did not. "I'm not… angry, Vince," he said listlessly. "Only tired."

Vincent's touch. Gil's body. They remained connected.

"You'll have the Raven." Vincent stressed lowly, squeezing slightly, feeling his brother's pulse. "You will. I know it."

A small chuckle as his weariness eased. "You're always so optimistic about me. Sometimes, I don't understand why."

That was enough. "Because I know Gil's such a good person." Vincent smiled. "Sleep well."

"Good night." With a sweep of his long back jacket, his brother was gone.

For awhile, Vincent sat in bed, contemplating his next move. Unthinkingly, he gripped a half-torn teddie and picked at the unraveled threads from its torn neck.

He was such a burden. Even when he fought better than his brother, even by getting a Chain first, he remained a burden.

" _I'm the only one who knows what to do with you anyone!"_

A thread twisted tightly between his fingers and Vincent wretched it off. The teddie's head fell to the ground with a soft _thunk_ before rolling under the bed.

But soon they will be equals, once Gilbert had his Chain. They'd become partners, and Vincent would prove himself worthy of his brother's love.

That was his dream, right?

_i need to feed, Vincent Nightray_

The Dormouse bobbed overhead. Vincent scowled. Now the Chain shows up?

"Go away, Dormouse," he ordered. "I didn't summon you into the real world."

_hmmmmmmmmmmmm, you cannot summon me_

_you are weak_

He threw the headless teddie at the Chain, but the doll bounced harmlessly off one flank. "I command you to leave."

The giddy jingling of laughter.

_you cannot command_

A wave of vertigo hit Vincent full on, and he collapsed onto the bed. The Dormouse loomed over him, a sickeningly fat toy. Vincent tried to reach out. He'd grab its head and bury his thumbs in that monster's stitched-up eyes…Yet his limbs felt too heavy. Unearthly giggles echoed in his mind.

_foolish human,_ the Dormouse said, _you think you control me?_

Vincent grasped for the blood mirror necklace around his neck. "Yes, I—" Dizziness overwhelmed his senses. Vincent shut his eyes as the Dormouse emitted a gleeful squeal.

_i feed on blood or dreams and you give me neither_

_our bond is weak_

_feed me and you will be my master_

When the room stopped spinning, he replied, "Yes, I will feed you."

_don't keep me waiting, human_

"I won't."

Lying flat on his back and staring at the shadowed canopy of the four-poster bed, Vincent considered his options. Tomorrow, Gilbert will claim Raven and the both of them will seek out the Oz brat. Vincent will be all alone except for the perpetual murmur of the Dormouse invading his head with its incessant demands and titters.

Unless Vincent tamed the Dormouse. He _will_ tame it.

Propping up in the bed, Vincent told the dark creature, "Come."

Tonight the Dormouse will feast and he will get what he wanted. What Gil wanted.

Their dream. More than protection and closeness. Because even those two things weren't going to make Vincent happy, not anymore.

Vincent wanted for Gilbert to know him as he did before. Not as a burden, or as being useless, but as being needed, being loving. Gil used to have those memories, those cherished memories when they were alone and together and no one else impeded upon their connection.

"That's my dream, Dormouse," he said softly, reaching up to stroke the Chain's side. "I want Gil to remember how happy I make him. _Really_ remember." The fur felt soft and fuzzy, yet lacked warmth. He squeezed its side, expecting the plumpness of stuffing and felt. His fingers gripped nothing but the essence of spider webs.

_oh how beautiful,_ the Chain complimented as it floated down the hall alongside its contractor. _i can almost taste it, hmmmm_


	5. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night before Gilbert's trial for the Raven, desire and dreams are finally fulfilled. But at what cost?

 

Chapter 4

Vincent trod barefoot down the hall to where Gilbert's rooms were. Opening the door a crack, he saw that his brother had shed his clothes haphazardly across the sitting room. A faint light glowed from behind his bedroom door, which stood ajar. He must've been exhausted, since Gilbert always folded his clothes after undressing.

Vincent entered the bedroom and saw Gil already nestled under the sheets, lying on his stomach with an arm tucked underneath the pillow his head rested on. A stunted candle burned low by the bedside, rivulets of wax drippings stiffening around the brass holder.

He approached and saw the pale face of his sleeping brother. Leaning over, Vincent stroked his fingers along his neck.

"Hello Gilbert," he whispered, hushed. He'd brand the truth into Gil's very flesh and he'd be his forever.

The Dormouse hummed _, if you want this_

_just ask and i shall obey_

_hmmmmmmm_?

"Yes, Dormouse. Take him to the Borderlands."

The Dormouse advised, _continue to touch_

_and_

_be gentle_

"Of course, I'd never be anything but gentle to dear Gilbert."

His touches were light and he felt the energy of the Dormouse rise inside him, like water in a tidal pool. His vision blurred, a gentle throb pulsed behind his ears. The Dormouse's humming intensified. He felt the Chain's energy flow down the back of his neck, along the length of his arms, pooling in his fingertips. Gradually, the humming in his head subsided for the first time since he had contracted the Chain. His fingers began massaging the back of his brother's neck in slow circles, working their way down slowly and undoing all of the stress knots he found there.

Gilbert shifted in his sleep, and Vincent sat on the edge of the bed close enough for his hip to nudge against his brother's beneath the blanket.

 _wake him,_ The Dormouse commanded.

"Gilbert?" Vincent slipped his hand beneath the loose collar of Gilbert's nightshirt, messaging with the heel of his palm. "Brother, wake up."

"Hmmm?" His brother twitched abruptly and lifted his head.

_don't let go don't let go_

"Vince?" Gil's eyelids opened hesitantly, squinting in the dim light.

_hold him down_

Vincent's grip remained firm on Gilbert's neck and he placed the other hand on the center of his back, carefully pressing down. "Don't move."

A confused expression glanced back at him as Gil tried to get up. "What are you-"

_don't let go don't let go_

Gilbert's voice grew alert slowly. "What are you doing, Vincent?" He began to shift position, to shrug him off. "Why are you here-?"

"For you." Vincent pressed down even more, shoving Gilbert onto the bed. Now wide awake, Gilbert grunted and threw his arms out, trying to knock Vincent away.

Desperate not to break contact like the Dormouse instructed, Vincent yanked down his shirt collar from behind using the hand on Gil's back while the other held his neck. Gilbert gagged and attempted to lift himself up by bending his elbows.

_don't lose him, Vincent_

"Brother, please~!" Vincent clambered on top of him from behind, one hand remaining on his neck and the other tugging at the crook of one of Gil's elbows. Off balance, Gil collapsed again face-first onto the bed with a muffled grunt.

"Stay still and I won't hurt Gil, I'd never hurt Gil…" Why had his voice turned so pleading all of a sudden, so childish?

_don't let go don't let go_

Vincent answered, "I'm trying not to!"

_press harder, push harder, i'm getting ready…_

"Not to what?" Coughing and half-choking, Gilbert bucked underneath him. "What the Abyss-!" Vincent grabbed his bare shoulders that were exposed from the ripped shirt collar. Will the Dormouse keep his promise?

He breathed, "I only want you to relax, brother." He gripped tightly onto his older brother's shoulders, holding him down. "Please let me make Gil happy."

"Vince…" Gil slumped forward and lay still on the bed, his head turned to the side and arms falling flat against his sides. Seeing Gilbert collapse beneath him, Vincent released his hold.

"Dormouse," he said accusingly. "You liar…"

_i did not lie and look he is there_

_Gilbert is there_

Vincent stared down at his prone older sibling. Did he fail, again?

To his relief, a soft sigh escaped his brother's lips. Hesitantly, Vincent clambered off and rolled his brother onto his side. His eyes were closed, his face calm and slack.

"He's sleeping."

_no_

_not sleep_

_he is in the Borderlands_

_call his name_

"Gilbert…?"

Two golden slits peered up at him, irises large and unfocused. Gilbert's lips parted as he breathed shallowly through his mouth.

 _see?_ said the Dormouse. _did i do well, human?_

"Yes," Vincent affirmed. "You did well, dear Dormouse." A small smile formed upon his lips.

Vincent ran his fingers through Gilbert's fine dark curls, pushing a lock of hair behind one ear. So this is what happens when the Dormouse took a person to the Borderlands. The realm between sleep and awareness, where the dream and the reality blurred into one. A deep and slumbering place of contentment, not that jarring hell like the Abyss.

"Vincent…?" his brother whispered in a raw voice. Oh, how precious! How endearing he sounded, almost like when they were children. Vincent took in the sight of his older brother curled up in his disheveled nightshirt, the buttons ripped open down until the scar on his chest showed.

A rough redness encircled the front of his neck where Vincent choked him. Immediately, Vincent went to the washbasin and poured out some cold water. Wetting a wash towel, he carried it over and placed the cold cloth against his neck to prevent any further bruising.

"I'm sorry this didn't work out as well. It'll get better next time, I promise…"

Vincent's fingers trailed down his cheek, coasting down his neck and tracing his collarbone. For the next few minutes, he dabbed the wet cloth against Gilbert's skin until the ugly red mark went away. Hopefully, there won't be any noticeable damage. It would be unsightly to bruise his dark-haired dearest brother.

Gil muttered, "Where…?"

Vincent put the towel on the bedstand, satisfied that the injury wasn't visible anymore. "You're in the Borderlands, Gil. This isn't a terror like the Abyss, you know. This is a place where our dreams can turn real." A giddy, fluttery feeling began at the pit of his stomach and he felt like an eager schoolboy on St. Belligeron's Day. He slipped off the bed and shrugged out of his clothes. Shuddering from the coolness of the night air, he crawled back naked into bed.

So warm, so close. Together. Always.

He took his place snuggled by his brother's side, facing him. His fingers lingered over his chest.

Gilbert blinked. "I… I can't…" His voice sounded huskier, drowsier.

"Yes, you can. I'll be gentler, brother. I'm just learning the Dormouse's powers, but don't worry. Everything is going to be fine."

Quickly, Vincent pecked Gilbert on the lips and an electric thrill raced down his spine. He'd fooled around with a couple of debutantes after their coming-of-age ceremonies, usually hidden away in servant stairwells or nighttime garden beds (he also did that with the wretched old bag from Pandora, but he didn't like to think about it). The young girls were fun, though he'd never done this with a man before. But of course, Gilbert was special; his brother deserved to be the only one…

He leaned in to breathe Gil's scent. Tobacco smoke and gunpowder and the deep musky smell of his brother. He nuzzled Gil's neck.

Mine.

"The Dormouse said that memories made while in the Borderlands never fade away, but stay here." He pressed his hand against Gil's heart. "So tomorrow you won't know what had happened consciously, but your body will always be able to recall this night in your dreams."

He paused, letting a few seconds pass before he got the courage to say the next thing the Dormouse told him.

"People caught in the Borderlands always tell the truth, because it is where their heart is unclouded by their mind." He bit his lower lip. "So tell me, dear brother, do you love me?"

"Vincent…" Gilbert, almost painfully slow, reached out and placed a hand upon his cheek. "Why…"

A stab wound, sharper than any knife could make. "Answer me."

Dormouse trembled in the dark corner.

_let me take him deeper_

_the further he goes_

_the more he will obey unconditionally_

Vincent snapped his head up. "I don't want him to obey," he scowled. Looking down again, he saw Gilbert blinking hard. Tears!

"No, I want to protect you, make you feel good…." Embracing his brother, he pressed flesh against flesh, feeling warmth caused by the contact rush over his body.

Didn't this make Gilbert feel good too?

He could feel Gilbert bury his head in his shoulder and the hot tears seemed to sting as they fell on his bare skin. "Why…" he repeated groggily.

"I only want to make new memories of us for big brother." His emotional walls shattering, Vincent trembled. A repressed sob rose. He was cursed after all, cursed to manipulate his brother, cursed to never be able to make him happy…

And then Gilbert finished his sentence. "…do you have to ask…?"

Vincent blinked and loosened his hold before realizing that Gilbert's arms had wrapped around him in response. "Stay," Vincent whispered in his ear. "Stay with me."

"I'll be here."

His eyes widened. Surely he couldn't mean-?

"I have no choice." His dark shaggy hair framed his fine cheekbones, his expression almost unreadable in the flicking candlelight. "You're all I have."

The words broke Vincent inside. This was love, right? Love was this, having no choice but to give in. It was fate, it was unavoidable, it was this.

It had to be.

Tentatively, Vincent's hands wandered. Gilbert, half-dazed and half-dreaming, watched through heavy-lidded eyes as his younger brother explored his body. Traced the smooth muscles of his chest and the slightly toughed skin of his lingering scar. Rubbing where his nightshirt draped over the toned muscles of his torso, moving further down, ghosting against his covered hips, brushing his thighs, his groin. Gil tilted his head back and a small, tender sound escaped his throat.

Yes, like that. "Don't stop making those sounds," Vincent breathed reverently.

More small gasps and moans escaped Gilbert's lips as Vincent continued his caresses through his clothes, shifting closer to press his naked body against Gil. Carefully, he pressed a thigh between his brother's legs and rubbed his growing erection.

A deep, pleasurable keen—almost bestial—rose unbidden from Gilbert. Gil's hands reached out to tangle in Vincent's sun-colored hair in reaction, hugging Vincent to his chest. His hands moved to stroke Vincent's cheeks intimately, and one thumb traced the edge of his lips. Vincent took it in his mouth and sucked greedily. Vincent kissed each of his brother's knuckles and dragged his tongue along the index finger of one hand, and he could feel Gil shudder in response.

Vincent's own hands quickly worked their way down the remaining buttons of Gil's nightshirt, before pushing the loose fabric away. Bare, white shoulders and smooth, chiseled torso were fully revealed before his eyes as Gil shrugged off the rest of the nightshirt, leaving him only wearing his silken underclothes.

Gilbert's hands settled on Vincent's hips, his thumbs dragging deliciously along his legs where they connected to his torso, those smooth lines angling toward his cock. Vincent's erection, which was present even before he had disrobed, began to throb painfully. Gil leaned over and began to nibble on the side of his brother's neck, and Vincent almost mewed, arching to meet his touches. Vincent felt the hardness of his brother's cock brush against him.

"Touch me," Vincent breathed. Immediately, Gilbert gripped him hard with a hot palm and pulled along his length. The unexpected forcefulness elicited a cry from Vincent as he pressed himself against Gilbert even more.

"Nngh~" Gil gasped, shifting his hips against his. His lips parted as he panted, a glazed expression covering his eyes as he angled his face away.

"No." Vincent grabbed the back of his brother's head and pressed their foreheads together. "Gilbert!" he directed. "Look at me."

Languidly, his brother's golden eyes focused on Vincent's bi-colored gaze. He felt his brother's breath against his face: hot, short, urgent. Together, they rocked their hips together as pricks of sweat formed on their touching foreheads. Vincent felt their erections rub against the thin silk. They were so close, so intense… Vincent let go of his grip on the back of Gilbert's head and pushed the strands of dark hair from his brother's forehead. He reached down to cup his arse, to position his hips so that they thrust more passionately against his own. Gilbert rubbed his face against his, eyes clenched shut tight as another groan escaped his lips.

Vincent kissed the corner of one eye, where a tear lingered and tasted the warm salt on his tongue. He played a series of butterfly kisses along the side of Gil's face and hesitated at his lips. Gil opened his eyelids—beautiful gold, flecked with desire—and their mouths locked onto one another. Vincent parted his lips and Gil's tongue slipped in, tracing the contours inside deliciously. So forward! Vincent repressed a groan at his brother's show of dominance and retaliated playfully, taking his bottom lip in his teeth gently and teasingly biting down. Gil recoiled with a whine, but Vincent gripped the back of his brother's head again, holding him. With his fingers tangled in those black locks, Vincent's teeth let go of his lower lip and their tongues tangled together once more, mixing breath and spit and deep-seated noises.

Finally, Vincent let go. Gil, chest heaving, lay his head on his shoulder. Vincent rubbed circles on Gil's shoulders with one hand as his brother rested for a moment against him.

This was not enough.

This would never be enough.

Vincent grabbed Gil's chin and turned his face toward him. He growled, "Take me. Make me yours."

Gil gasped as Vincent leaned in for another kiss. Hands traveled, stopped to press against Gil's chest again, rubbing his nipples until Gil moaned into Vincent's mouth, his own hands clinging onto his body. Vincent's touch slipped down further as he pulled off the remaining piece of fabric between them.

Breaking off their contact, Vincent lay back onto the mattress to watch Gilbert shuffle and kick away his drawers to reveal his throbbing member, darkened in desire. His brother was slightly larger than him. Dark curls of a different sort clustered around Gil's cock and it bobbled slightly in its hardness.

"You're beautiful," Vincent breathed.

In response, a leisurely smile spread across his brother's face as he ran his hand through his disheveled hair.

This was better than any fevered dream Vincent ever had before, imagining Gil as he would jerk off on lonely nights. Seeing Gil nude and wanting was almost enough to make him come on his own. Almost.

Vincent had an idea about what men did together, and he felt no desire to use Gilbert like a woman. He can –and had – used women for pleasure, of course. There was great enjoyment in controlling their bodies, to hear the cries these women made into their clasped palms or silken pillowcases. But this was not about controlling Gilbert (no, this was love, this was the deepest kind of love.) He wanted Gil to be inside him, he wanted to feel their bodies marked forever. So he would offer himself to Gil, only to him, his dearest, only brother…

He suspected – wretchedly, horrifyingly – that the Oz brat had desecrated his brother's body during Gilbert's time at the Vessalius manor and was not surprised to discover Gilbert's sure and confident moves as he took charge despite the dazed look in his eyes.

Gilbert groped for the bedstand drawer, took out a lotion used for muscle aches, and poured its contents into his palm. In the near-darkness, it was hard to discern his face, but the silence of the room was broken by the increased grunts and pants both of them emitted as they continued to touch each other. Gil leaned in to lick Vincent's nipples and Vincent groaned as his brother twisted them slightly with his slick fingers. They moved down further, stroking and kneading his arse as Gilbert spread him into position with those elegant, long fingers.

The first one that entered startled Vincent – he wasn't used to the sensation, and he cried out in pleasure and pain at the intrusion. But Gilbert kept going, shifting his finger in and out, in and out, in and…

"Gah!" Vincent gripped the covers as Gil added a second finger and scissored them, spreading him wider. The sensation shocked and aroused him, being entered like this, being touched in such a virginal place by his brother.

For several minutes Vincent left himself be stretched, exposed, used. He was lost in that sensation of being needed, wanted, loved. Fluttering kisses touched his thighs.

"Gilbert~"

Then, a sudden softness brushed his cock and a jolt of pleasure raced along his spine. Looking down, Gil's face was at his crotch, his lips trailing along his length.

"Taste me," he rasped.

A smirk flinted across Gil's face, making Vincent gasp, before his lips enveloped the tip of Vincent's cock. He bit his lower lip to stop from crying out, and he watched his brother's eyes sparkle in the dimming candlelight before Gil angled his head to take Vincent whole. Vincent stuffed his fist against his mouth to contain the scream.

Simultaneously, a third finger entered his arse, and Vincent curled his spine, jaw dropping, biting his knuckles. The immense pleasure of being entered from behind while his cock was taken into that warm mouth was overwhelming. The heat, the pleasure, the fullness…. He was being filled, being consumed by his older, precious brother. Excitement and sensation made sparks dance across his vision.

The wetness of Gil's mouth left and the chill from the cool room made Vincent focus between his legs once more. Gilbert kneeled, plunging his fingers into his rear while he poured some more lotion on his cock with the other hand. Letting the bottle roll off onto the floor, he coated his length in two quick jerks. His brother moaned even louder, touching himself.

How erotic and desirable Gil was…. Dark hair askew except for the sweaty tendrils clinging to the sides of his neck, his cheeks colored with lust, his tongue licking his full lips, making them gleam in the sputtering candlelight.

"Brother…"

The fingers jerked away, leaving an abrupt emptiness behind. A more aware part of Gil seemed to rise to the surface in that expression, and he edged away, still holding himself. That drowsy, passive glow of pleasure that had coated his face faded a bit as his eyes widened.

"Vince-!"

The Dormouse hovered a few feet from the bed; Vincent saw its silhouette loom behind his brother.

_he's escaping_

_he's escaping_

Vincent exclaimed, "Don't stop!" Why was this happening now? Was the feeling too intense? He got on his knees, crawled forward and grabbed Gilbert, planting his lips upon his brother's open mouth as he pinned him to the bed.

 _Take him back, take him back!_ He silently screamed to his Chain.

Gil ripped away from the kiss. "Stop," he said with a panting breath. "What are we doing?"

"Stay with me!" Vincent kissed him forcefully again, his tongue prying between his brother's lips. But he had to be gentle, gentle…

Beneath him, he felt Gilbert begin to struggle. Vincent reached for his wrists and held them over his head as he kissed down his neck, across his chest in near franticness. Another grunt as Gil fought him. He pushed his brother's legs apart with one knee, hearing Gil yell, hearing him beg ("Stop, don't, wait…") but as Vincent dragged his tongue along the hollow of his neck, a confused moan escaped from beneath him.

"Gil wants this," Vincent hissed into his collarbone, half-assuring and half-demanding. "Gil wants me."

"I…I…" Gilbert cried, voice cracking with emotion. "Oh… _fuck_ …" His spread legs hooked around Vincent's waist as he arched into Vincent's embrace.

"You feel good, brother. So good…"

"Ngh!" Gil's head lolled back onto the bed, his hair fanning out into a black halo as he continued to thrust while tugging his arms against Vincent's hold. He squeezed his eyes shut, screwing up his face as he gasped, "… help me…"

"I am helping," Vince muttered in reply. "Let me help, my dear brother."

Several minutes passed as Vincent invaded his brother's mouth, biting and roaming with teeth and lips, blocking out any muffled cries from his older sibling. Gil kept gasping, gagging on his tongue and when Vincent lifted his head for breath, he saw shame and desire color his brother's face.

He wanted this. Gil had to say he wanted this. Vincent wanted this too, so badly, so much, so _now_.

"Say it. You need me."

Again, that panicky expression, one that made Vincent's stomach twist uncomfortably. He parted his swollen lips to speak, but suddenly dreading the answer, Vincent dived in again to taste that wild, pulsating anxiety.

Gil writhed beneath him, bringing Vincent closer to elation. The heat of Gil's cock was a brand against his stomach as their bodies grinded against each other. He was so good to him. Poor Gilbert, so afraid, so lovely, so hot and wanting so badly.

Another trembling loud noise—tense and needful—called out and Vincent turned harder at the sound. In the back of his mind, he wondered whether he was being gentle enough.

Soon, the uncertainty and desire that had flared up in his brother's squirming body melted away as the Dormouse dragged his brother back to the Borderlands. When Gil stopped his wild motions, Vincent straightened up and watched his brother's dulled face searchingly. He was so sure this would make Gil happy, that this is what Gil desired. That closeness. That need.

"Say you love me."

Gil stared at him, eyes as empty as the teddies that mocked him. Vincent shook his brother's shoulders, lustful and desperate and despairing all at once.

"Don't lie to me!" he cried. "Big brother, don't leave me alone!" He held Gil, moving his hips wantonly on his body, his erection drooping but still present. "Please," he begged. "Please don't leave me." Not with so much need and feeling so unfulfilled.

An echoing in his mind from his Chain.

_he won't escape again_

_not until you let him_

Anger, as intense as his yearning for release, fired through Vincent. "You overstuffed rat, you said that his heart would be true in the Borderlands! This is what my brother wants, right?"

_the Borderlands is a place of dreams and reality_

The Dormouse's sewn-shut eyes seemed to berate him.

_i want to taste your dream_

"But what is _his_ dream? Can't you make our dreams the same?"

_i can grant dreams for the sleeping and the waking_

_but they are not necessarily the same_

"Vin…cent…" Gil's voice seemed to come from a long ways away.

_choose either your dream_

"Vin…"

_or face your reality_

Vincent peered down at Gil's glazed eyes. He caressed his brother's face once more, brushing away the track of a tear from the corner of one glistening eye.

"Say you love me," he murmured, letting his corn-silk hair fall across his face.

The candle spluttered, flickered, and held.

"Love you, little brother."

"Really?"

In the shadows, Gil sounded almost true. "Yes."

Then, groping in the near-blackness, as their lips met for a passionate kiss, Vincent took his brother in his hand, rubbing up and down until he felt Gilbert harden again. He angled himself to rub the tip of his brother's cock against his opening.

This being their first time together, and for Vincent doubly so with a man ( _curse that Vessalius, curse him_ ), he was hesitant and couldn't position them right. He spread his legs farther, frustrated, until Gil stopped their kiss and re-positioned themselves, his hands brushing Vincent's body in sensual guidance. They faced each other sitting up with Gil between his spread knees. Vincent scrambled on top of a pillow to prop himself up better and circled his arms around Gil's neck. The head of Gil's cock was now circling Vincent's entrance, sending shivers of pleasure rolling over him.

A murmur, so quiet that Vincent could barely hear it.

"I'm sorry…" Gilbert's shoulders trembled, his head bowed.

"For what?" Vincent lifted his chin.

Gil clenched his eyes shut, and for a spilt second, Vincent _feared_.

"For being your big brother," Gilbert replied as he entered. The force of his cock through the first ring of muscle was intense, and Vincent screamed.

The candle spluttered out.

Afterwards, there was nothing except darkness and warmth. Darkness and warmth and fullness and desire and ( _yes, yes, brother, just like that_ ), and shifting and the sounds of grunts and moans, and ( _please don't stop, please love me, love me like this_ ) and hitches of breath and the rising tide of pleasure as he felt Gilbert ram that part inside him that triggered the spasms of joy rocking through his entire self.

When the mind forgets, the body remembers.

"Remember me."

Hips grinding, moving faster, and harder. Vincent lowered his head forward and bit down on his brother's flesh as if trying to consume as much of him as possible in his ecstasy. The taste of blood danced on his tongue as his teeth broke the skin.

The feeling of slick, oily fur. The Dormouse's tongue brushed against his cheek as the sensitive muzzle dove toward the site of Gilbert's wound.

… _.so dark… so pure…_

Vincent groaned in the intensity, not caring that the Chain fed off them both. His dreams laced with his brother's blood.

And when it became too much, Vincent felt the hot spurt of cum inside him and the feeling of pleasure sent him over the edge and he felt Gilbert's fingers claw down his back as he moaned deeply and ( _yes, yes , please!)_

Once the spike of pleasure ebbed away, Vincent whispered against his brother's chest. "Never forget."

Gilbert's voice was ragged, gasping as he repeated Vincent's command. "Never forget."

The Dormouse loomed behind them, a figure darker than dark. Watching, waiting, floating in its dormant state. But… was that a subtle smirk on its face?

_thank you…master…_

Vincent couldn't think any further as the Dormouse's strength overwhelmed him. He felt his head hit the pillow, his brother collapsing on top of him. A black fog not associated with the room's lack of light rolled over Vincent's vision as he felt Gilbert withdraw and rest his body next to his.

 _And tomorrow, everything will change,_ Vincent thought drowsily. _But this moment, never._

It was the last he thought before both brothers were taken away past the Borderlands into the realm of sleep.

Fin.

* * *

First in the Borderlands series.


End file.
